Black Bear on Ice
by Ex Oblivione
Summary: Victor is the psychopathic but charming, wealthy leader of a multinational Russian crime syndicate: Black Bear. Yuuri is a naive college student and part-time Katsudon delivery boy, who skates his worries away on the ice. Their totally unexpected meeting has Yuuri falling into both a job for the mafia underworld and Victor's dark, encircling embrace.
1. delivery

Victor Nikiforov. Underneath that charming exterior laid a psychopathic mind. Kindly, yet ruthless to get what he wants. Outwardly, he possessed confident charm; inwardly he concealed a maddening intrigue that registered faintly on the edges of Yuuri's consciousness. To put it briefly, Victor was infuriatingly seductive in a way that drove Yuuri Katsuki insane. A smile played across his thin lips. Little creases formed at the corners of his ocean-blue eyes, like delicate cracks on a frozen lake.

The kingpin of Black Bear gazed straight into Yuuri's nervous eyes, reaching a slender hand to tilt Yuuri's chin up and inspect him with intense scrutiny. At the physical contact and close proximity, Yuuri felt wobbly at the knees.

"You'll do." Victor's voice echoed in the darkness.

Yuuri could think of no response, only a fast pounding in his heart that he couldn't stop. Before Yuuri could say anything, Victor spoke again. "My humblest apologies for this sudden preposition, but it seems you don't have a choice, no?"

"I...I'll do it. Just tell me what to do." Yuuri found himself saying, completely entranced as if under a spell.

Victor nodded, his faint smile seem to convey an unspoken understanding.

"You'll receive word of my instruction soon. But alas, I have other affairs to attend to,"

Just like that, his elegant figure receded into the darkness of the cavernous warehouse carrying a drug fortune of one thousand tons of foreign contraband.

* * *

The agony all began with a delivery of Katsudon. But before the Katsudon, the ice rink.

The day began as it always did. Yuuri Katsuki forced himself up in the unforgivingly frigid dawn, a time when the city was still silent as a tomb. His housemate, Thai exchange student Phichit Chulanont, was enviably warm and fast asleep. Yuuri stretched to warm himself up in the freezing December chill, collected his stuff, and quietly tiptoed out of the apartment so as not to wake Phichit.

As soon as he came into the ice rink, he plopped down on the bench and laced up his favorite pair of ice skates. No one else was here at 6am. It was his time to reflect, to collect himself before the day really started.

Soon enough, the agile 21-year-old glided forward onto the ice. He nimbly worked his legs into a familiar rhythm, building up speed as he went round and round the small rink.

Here, Yuuri was free. Here, he didn't have to think about the stress of his university final exams, or about the break-up with Yuuko that happened two weeks ago.

 _Shit, don't think about Yuuko.._

Yuuri felt himself beginning to slow down and lose his pace when his thoughts strayed to her. He thought the two of them were doing so well, and even with their busy school schedules, had always made time to see each other. For many months, their relationship had continued forward at a careful but steady pace, like a child taking his first steps out onto the ice. But recently, Yuuko seemed more and more withdrawn from him, neglecting to respond to any messages, and even looked a bit sad when he saw her last.

Then finally, two weeks ago, he got the Line message from her: "I'm really sorry Yuuri..I don't think we're working out..I think I just need some space."

The impact of that one message first hit him like a ton of bricks. It felt similar to the sensation of unexpectedly failing a move, the sudden and unforgiving fall onto hard ice.

She had stopped replying to him completely after that last message, and Yuuri began to try and accept the hard facts that come with a break-up. Over the past two weeks, he gradually began to numb himself with longer ice skating sessions and study time in the university computer lab. If he kept busy, if he kept his mind occupied, he could try to move on.

Skating...his first and foremost joy in life. He'd been out on the ice as long as he could remember, and even as a little kid he relished the joys and freedom it allowed him; he savored the heady rush of adrenaline that came with all the speed, technique, and flourish of a jump or a spin. Like a soaring bird, or a newborn fish dipping into the pond of life, Yuuri could feel himself born anew with every session, good or bad.

For this one today, he decided to start with warm-ups. He glided back and forth, sweeping his legs across the ice, criss-crossing his legs as he leaned into the curve of the skating rink.

 _Find your rhythm, don't think, just skate_...Yuuri told himself.

Pumping his legs to glide towards the opposite side, Yuuri tensed his body into a tight spin, spinning around once, twice, then three times. On the third spin, he saw something on the corner of his vision flash by.

What? Someone...watching him? It couldn't be. No one was ever here at 6 in the morning.

But yes, someone, a tall figure who stood out as immediately handsome, with his angular face lit up by the artificial rink lights.

Yuuri tried to continue his practice as planned, but this mysterious stranger occupied all thoughts. Oops! He hardly noticed he was about to collide into the rink wall. Turning away at the last second, kicking up some ice powder with the edge of his skates, he turned to face the stranger.

He was...? Caucasian. Definitely not Japanese. Dressed in oddly formal Western attire, a black pinstriped suit and blood-red tie, with a felt hat perched over his silver bangs swept back in a stylish, suave manner. The stranger was still a young man, definitely a few years older than Yuuri, perhaps visiting Japan on a business trip? Surely it was odd that this lone stranger, sitting right in the front row, would come to observe him on this frigid winter's morning.

When they made eye contact from across the rink, the stranger smiled, coy and mischievous and instantly magnetic. Yuuri feel a funny, light feeling in his stomach, like a cloud of butterflies parting to reveal a secret garden. He realized he had stopped completely in his tracks. Just as Yuuri was having an intense internal debate on what to do, the man got up from his viewing seat, tipping his hat in farewell, and left.

 _What just happened…_

A mixture of confusion intermingled with intrigue and wonder bubbled up inside Yuuri. He wanted to continue with spins, but decided to quit early and head to campus for his morning class.

* * *

"Order up!"

Yuuri entered through the back door. The kitchen was filled with the busy sights, aromatic smells, and sounds of Japanese diner food being cooked by five line chefs keeping up a constant stream of new orders. It was nearing seven pm, the usual dinner rush at the Tonkatsu restaurant down the corner, Yoshibei.

His parents and financial aid could only support him so far in university, and taking up this part-time delivery job was better than nothing. He could deliver food anywhere in town on his city moped, plastered with a Yoshibei diner logo. At least the job paid enough for Yuuri's steady daily consumption of coffee and ramen.

"Yuuri! So glad you're finally here. I've got a special order for you to deliver!" The Yoshibei manager promptly pushed a delivery box into Yuuri's hands. "The client lives a bit further out than our usual crowd, so I wanted to make sure you take this one first,"

"Oh. Ok sure," Yuuri headed out the door, grabbing his red-and-white Yoshibei helmet and jacket on the way out. He put the key in the ignition, starting up the moped parked right out back. Snow began to fall. Light, delicate snowflakes touched his cheeks, his nose.

"Going so soon, Yuuri?" Takeshi, a fellow coworker and delivery man, stood smoking by the curb. "I just got on break."

"Yeah... turns out we have a special order? From a Mr…" Yuuri squinted at the delivery receipt in his hand. "Nikiforov?"

"Sounds very foreign, must be from out of town. I'm surprised they've heard of a tiny place like this," Takeshi said thoughtfully. "We hardly ever get anyone but locals."

Yuuri waved goodbye and got on his moped and sped away. The neon lights of a darkening city twinkled and flashed around him in a whirl of bright colors as the scooter sped through the city streets. Here and there, past the traffic sounds and low hum of his moped, Yuuri caught the whispers of a phone conversation from the sidewalk, "Love you too! I'll be home soon…" or he saw a pair of lovers walking arm and arm through the shopping district, pointing and gazing at the store displays. The snow began to fall faster now, causing a flurry of white to occasionally obscure his vision.

 _Yuuko..._

Finally, the GPS directing him to the delivery address indicated the location was just around the corner. Yuuri skidded to a stop at the curb. He looked up at a block of grand, imposing townhouses, complete with pure-white marble pillars and gleaming Christmas lights strung from wrought iron balconies. The windows were fogged up, but nonetheless bright lights emanated from the house inside.

 _House No. 11…_

Carrying the warm delivery box, Yuuri walked up the stairs to the covered door,. The door was freshly painted ebony black, with a shiny brass door knocker strangely sculpted in the shape of a snarling bear's head. He hesitated, almost afraid to use the door knocker, as though the bear might come to life and bite his hand. Strange tingles of unease and curiosity welled up from inside him, for absolutely no reason at all. It was just an ordinary job, and he should really hurry this up so he could get back to the diner and fill more orders..

As if stalling for one extra minute, Yuuri decided to check if the food was okay before he handed it off. The welcoming aroma of pork Katsudon hit his nostrils, like a warm hug in the evening chill.

But wait...Yuri froze. Stuffed in the cardboard box, around the pork cutlet bowl, were dozens of small, unmarked baggies, black and befuddling. Why were these here? He'd definitely never seen those before in a box of customer orders. There was a folded up note attached to the bowl, on the outside was the handwritten message "For Black Bear."

 _What the..?_

Just as Yuuri was about to reach into the box, to take apart one of the bags and figure out just what was inside, the townhouse door opened abruptly, letting out a burst of warmth. A distant voice floated from within:

"Yuuri Katsuki, I presume? I've been waiting for you…"


	2. deal

_*Finally updated. This chapter is more of background filler, without Victuuri content (sorry!) that will be coming in chp 3 :) I will try to update once a week so stay tuned!*_

* * *

From within the nooks and crannies of the deep web:

 _krysos168 has entered the chatroom_

 _shblade17 has entered the chatroom_

krysos168: Black Bear. I always thought tackling the Bear would be worse than wrestling with a sea kraken. A hidden beast of intricate networks sprawled across the criminal underworld, with roots in every major world metropolis. Basically, they're Interpol's worst nightmare. They say their code of honor is silence, loyalty, and vengeance. But who knows what they'll stop at to get what they want?

shblade17: After what happened last month, I take it Feltsman is gone?

krysos168: He's either dead or on the run, but they have a new leader. I cracked open a few databases easy as pie, found out who he is. It's Feltman's former second-in-command, Victor.

shblade17: Pinged their servers. The satellite coordinates indicate northern Japan? Hokkaido region.

krysos168: Oh yeah, that I know. Seems our Russian boy wants to get away from the fresh wounds in Europe and establish stronger control of the Asia Pacific region. Maybe Tokyo has too many local Yakuza to deal with nowadays.

shblade17: Any concrete idea what they're up to?

krysos168: Working on it. Ofc you know Professor heads the Interpol team in Hokkaido. You remember him? The former Japanese law professor. He wants us to start on their web communications.

shblade17: Yeah...their encryptions are kind of impossible to crack at this point. It really seems like they're recovering nicely.

krysos168: Maybe. But remember Vulpes? The masterminds behind the chaos of last month in Moscow? They're in Japan too. Some threats in the not-so-distant future could risk Victor Nikiforov his life.

* * *

A new message buzzed onto Yuri Plisetsky's phone.

The economics professor at the front of the lecture hall continued to drone on about interest-rate stability. The blond freshman sat up from his usual apathetic slump in his lecture seat, carefully glancing around before surreptitiously pulling out his iPhone. It didn't help to have such a flashy phone case, leopard-skin studded with gold bling, when one didn't want to be noticed. This professor had such an irritating no electronics policy in the classroom.

Yuri unlocked the screen to reveal a new message, in Russian, from the boss:

'Oy Yurio! Make sure nothing goes wrong at 4 today.'

Despite himself, Yuri couldn't help but roll his eyes. Pfft. As if Victor didn't trust him again. And dammit, didn't he always tell Victor not to call him Yurio?

'Yeah, I know. I got it. Not gonna mess this trade up.' Yuri texted a reply.

'Srsly, its our chance to show them our renewed spirit of cross-cultural brotherhood.'

'Whatever'

'Don't be so gloomy. I've got someone new in mind for our runner operations.'

'Whaat! Who? A new recruit?'

'Yep. You'll find out more later, Yurio :)'

'Wtf Victor why don't you tell me anything useful.'

He was mildly infuriated, yet at the same time his curiosity was piqued by the prospect of a new addition to the team. Black Bear operations had only just been established in the city as of last week. All Yuri could notice so far was the lack of decent Russian food and the all-too-often difficulties in communication. His Japanese skills were somewhat lacking.

He only noticed the class was over already when the other students began packing up and leaving the lecture hall.

"Hey! You're Yuri right?" Yuri looked up to see a vaguely familiar student waving at him. Judging by his tan skin and Southeast Asian features, he looked like an exchange student too, probably an upperclassman. He spoke perfect English and smiled to reveal neat, white teeth. "I didn't know you were in this class too!"

"Uh...am I supposed to know you?" Yuri arched an eyebrow, slightly impatient to get back to his messages.

"I just joined the school ice skating team too! We met at the last meeting, remember? I'm Phichit Chulanont. I'm studying abroad here for a year from Thailand," The student introduced himself, extending his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Yuri took it, and mumbled an introduction.

He was never the best at socializing with strangers, especially any suspiciously friendly ones. Or maybe he was overthinking it. But he'd been trained for this since the start. He's gone through way too much back in the motherland to fear anything now.

"You're here from Russia, right? I don't know you studied economics too!" Phichit chattered on as Yuri packed his things and got up to leave.

"Uh, yeah, I'm actually a...poly sci major."

Dammit, he should really know his own cover story. He didn't actually care for political science. He had been trained to run trade deals for the mob, resorting to deadly force when necessary. Not this "innocent, spoiled exchange-student from Russia" bull.

"I'm just taking this class for an elective," Yuri replied, trying to put his mind off what should be a successful drop-off this afternoon.

After a few more minutes of chat walking down the hallway, with mainly Phichit talking about his excitement for the ice skating team's upcoming events, Yuri announced he was going back to his dorm and managed to shake him off.

Why had he joined the university team in the first place? In Russia, Yuri really did love skating, not to mention besting others at skating, but perhaps this move was too...conspicuous? He already had unwanted attention now. Best to stay under the radar.

He checked his phone again for the time. It was three o'clock, and he decided to head down to the docks early.

He passed Mila in the hall. That was odd. She usually hung out in the engineering building, since she was supposedly here for graduate studies in engineering. They tried not to meet each other during school hours, meeting only for official business when Victor called them all together.

Mila gave him a curt nod, her auburn hair bobbed up and down. She was usually cheery and playful, but today she seemed tense about something; her dark blue eyes filled with concern. Yuri decided not to stay and talk, hoping her tension wasn't because of what he thought it might be. He had more pressing matters at hand.

* * *

Yuuri Katsuki stepped cautiously over the threshold. His ears pricked up at the sound of the merry crackling of a roaring fireplace. Soft classical music played from another room within, fuzzy and indistinct like from an old gramophone. Yuuri stood on the doormat in a daze, soaking up the atmosphere and gazing at various winter landscape paintings hung on the dark paneled walls. Antique lamps softly illuminated the entrance hall decorated in antiquated shades of burgundy, red, and gold.

 _This is like an old house from Victorian times._

"Come in, come in. Right this way," the unseen voice echoed from down the corridor.

After a moment's hesitation, Yuuri headed down the hallway, his footsteps padded with the rug underfoot. This was by far the strangest delivery he'd ever had. He treaded carefully with the hesitation of a small animal that had wandered unwittingly into a predator's den. What was the mixture of feelings inside him? Fear? Curiosity? Confusion?

He reached the end of the hall and arrived at a much larger space, the same curious Victorian gothic theme, but with high vaulted ceilings and wide windows. His eyes traced a wooden spiral staircase leading up to a second floor. His ears pricked up at echoes of sound, faint whispers and thumps that he couldn't be sure came from upstairs or his imagination.

Yuuri began to climb.

* * *

The salty smell of the ocean and the squawking of seagulls. The ringing of dock bells. The clangs of container cranes hauling thousands of tons of cargo, receiving and shipping out from every corner of the world. This was a port city after all. But Jean-Jacques Leroy was not here to admire the beauty of the sea. He had one mission and one mission only.

The twenty-five-year Canadian perched nimbly unseen on the roof of an adjacent warehouse, his full black outfit melding with the swiftly approaching night. A few dock workers milled about, but otherwise the place was deserted. JJ pulled out a pair of long binoculars. Carefully scanning the scheduled rendezvous point on the docks, he zoomed in on one person of interest arriving on the scene.

Even dressed in a leopard print leather jacket with his hood pulled down low over his face, Black Bear's runner clearly looked very young. He shouldered a black school bag. Perhaps he was still even in high school, or his first year of college. With those golden locks and delicate, pale features, he was practically a baby. The boy was texting, occasionally looking up to anxiously scan his surroundings.

After a few more minutes, the anticipated moment had arrived.

A small, black speedboat from the harbor had just docked by some shipping containers. JJ zoomed in on the people on the boat. It looked like just three men, all native Japanese by the looks of them, with one of them carrying a black briefcase.

Those must be the Yakuza that Black Bear wants to trade with, JJ thought. He checked his watch. It was exactly four o'clock pm. JJ felt his lips curl into a grin. This was going to be too easy. Time to teach Black Bear a lesson in humility.

The three men stepped off the speedboat in single file, and their stony faces betrayed nothing. The one with the briefcase did so with the utmost reverence, lifting it flat with two hands. The young blond-haired Black Bear agent watched them approach in silence.

"So you have the money?" the blond boy asked in a steady voice, his heavily accented Japanese further emphasizing his foreign origins. He put his fancy phone away. "I'm not leaving without it."

"Hai, Yuri-san. We have brought the amount your boss requested," the Yakuza carrying the briefcase affirmed. He unlocked the case latches and showed him the contents. From his elevated vantage point, JJ shifted his position and squinted to see the inside. Generous, neat bundles of cash in ten-thousand yen denominations lined the inside of the briefcase. "But we need to see the goods first."

"No problem," Yuri, that must be the Black Bear agent's name, patting his bulky backpack. "It's all in here. Two kilograms."

"Does this new synthetic have a name? We have only heard rumors."

"Officially it's batch no. 435, but we've taken to calling it Zero," Yuri hesitated, speaking slowly to catch up with his thoughts. "I understand it's already a big hit in our first test circulation on the market."

"Excellent. We will take it in your full confidence. Anything wrong that happens, we will be back," the Yakuza fixed Yuri with a steely gaze. Yuri stared back, unimpressed.

JJ knew now was the time to act, now or never. He drew out his signature weapons of choice, two silenced pistols emblazoned with his golden initials: JJ.

He took steady aim at the youthful Black Bear associate, Yuri. His breath and even his heartbeat seem to stop.

Jean-Jacques Leroy was a trained assassin, born and bred. He had killed hundreds of times in the past without mercy, without hesitation. This moment, right here and now in an industrial Japanese city port, was no different. After this careful kill, he would report back to Celestino in Italy. It was important that this was done in the sight of the Yakuza. His orders were to scare them them off from making deals with Black Bear before they were targeted next.

His finger twitched. He pulled the double triggers.

The figures below moved at once as the muffled shots reached JJ's ears. Yuri was temporarily blocked from view, but JJ was certain he must have hit his target.

"Iiiiiiiit's JJ style!"

He declared triumphantly and blew the smoke off the gun barrels. He put his sunglasses back on, the sunlight glinting off the tinted lens. He couldn't help himself. It was a signature war cry that inevitably followed every successful hit, to let the world know of Jean-Jacques Leroy's feats. All throughout the criminal underworld, his name would be whispered in fear. He would go down in fame with awe and dread.

But what happened next was puzzling.

The Russian one called Yuri was not dead.

He was, in fact, ducking for cover behind a large shipping container. The Yakuza members had scattered to cover as well, occasionally looking out of the corners with their weapons drawn and ready.

"Woah!" JJ dived out of the way just in time to feel a bullet deflected on the roof barrier behind him. More began to ricochet off the rooftop as shots were directed his way.

 _What the hell?!_

He got down low and frantically crawled on his belly to the fire escape. It was total confusion and chaos down there, and Celestino needed to hear about this immediately, and he sure as hell wasn't going to stick around to get killed by whoever was shooting.

* * *

"Yuri! We have to go!" Mila Babicheva lowered her mob-issued silent pistol after having fired several more rounds.

She was breathing hard, having just arrived in time to save Yuri from the assassin on the roof. She hadn't been one hundred percent sure due to the distance, but he looked awfully like Jean-Jacques Leroy, the famous hit-man that Vulpes hired for tough jobs. While watching the trade go down the whole time from her hiding place, Mila had fired at the roof as soon as she'd realized what was about to happen.

"It's not safe! The trade's been compromised!"

"Yeah, ya think!" Yuri snarled at her, struggling to put his backpack on again. "Let's get outta here and report back to Victor!"

He drew his head back again in alarm at the sound of bullets ricocheting off the metal shipping container that his head was next to seconds earlier.

"Great, the Yakuza now think we're trying to kill them, they're firing at us!" Yuri called, trying not to wince at the deafening sounds of shots. The training in Russia was a far leap from a real life situation like this. Clearly, someone had been sent to kill him. Worse yet, in the confusion, the Yakuza now thought the assassin's bullets were meant for them and turned hostile.

"Hold on, I'll distract them, and we run for it," Mila unhooked a small cylindrical device from her belt. She flicked the small switch on the top, swung her arm back while taking careful aim at the Yakuza across the dock, and flung the device.

Black smoke erupted from the canister that landed on the ground with an echoing _thunk_ , triggering angry shouts and hacking coughs from the other side. Yuri and Mila took advantage of the obscured view, deftly diving and rolling away to escape the scene.


	3. job

Yuuri approached this new room, darker in contrast with a blood-red-and-ebony-black color scheme, but still impressively large. The velvet curtains were drawn, imparting an aura of secrecy. The only light came from dim candlesticks and the blazing brick fireplace.

He immediately noticed a prominent and intricately designed seal, similar to a family crest, on the center wall facing him. Shining golden with red, purple, and black floral details, this crest featured a snarling bear mascot, with prickled fur and fangs, just like the doorknocker on the front door.

A cursive motto in Latin: _Silentium, fide, vindicta_.

 _What kind of creepy place is this?_

One large armchair faced the fire. Someone was sitting in it, his back to Yuuri. Another straight-backed velvet chair sat empty next to him.

"I thought I should meet you at last...allow me to introduce myself."

The stranger finally stood up, revealing his tall and elegantly sculpted physique, clothed in a refined black suit. Taken all at once, he was imposing and absolutely stupefying.

It was the man from the ice rink.

There was no doubt about it, this was the man who had been watching him the other morning as he did warm-ups. A million questions ran through Yuuri's mind, the first and foremost being: _Who the hell are you?_ The questions were silenced with the man's sharp and piercing gaze, studying Yuuri as though he was the most fascinating subject in all the world.

"Katsuki...Yuuri Katsuki…" The words rolled off the stranger's tongue with ease. "You can set the Katsudon down on that table. I've waited so long to meet you."

His Japanese was flawless, spoken with a curious mix of the cultured tones of a Tokyo urbanite with a hint of foreign origins. His eyes never moved from Yuuri's face, and he paced slowly back and forth as he approached.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" Yuuri stuttered out, inwardly wishing he sounded more confident. He was just a delivery boy, but he wasn't going to be treated like this by some stranger. He'd walked in on some awkward scenes in the past, but nothing as strange as this. Yes, he had seen the man before at the ice rink earlier. Yet beyond that, Yuuri couldn't help but feel the powerful draw of deja vu, as though the silver-haired man were a friend from long ago, fated to meet him again on this day.

"Have a seat. Stay a while." The man didn't immediately answer his question, but gestured to the chair in front of him. After a moment's hesitation, Yuuri sat down cautiously.

"Would you like a drink? I have vodka or perhaps you prefer Suntory whiskey?" the man sat down in the armchair next to him, brushing his fingers along the bottles on the table next to him.

 _What is this? Is this guy...trying to hit on me? Maybe he's one of those weird perverts who stalk their targets. Or I'm thinking too much._

"I'm fine, but thanks." Yuuri gave him a tentative smile. "I don't drink anymore."

"Neither do I." The man returned his smile, giving Yuuri nervous shivers. "Not alone, anyway."

Before Yuuri could think of a reply to this, the stranger continued, "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Victor Nikiforov. You've probably never heard of me before, but I'm the heir to a vast and unimaginable fortune. I'm also part of a very...special organization," Victor nodded to the striking crest displayed on the wall.

 _OK, why is he telling me this? Yet..._

Again, Yuuri was struck by a sense of recognition. A storm of half-remembered thoughts swirled through his brain. He couldn't remember if his past impressions of Victor were positive or negative. Mostly just fleeting shadows of memories.

"I'm sure you've noticed our mascot, the bear, fierce and dangerous when disturbed. Accordingly, my organization is called 'Black Bear,' with operatives across the globe. Black Bear has had a long, illustrious history, and the time has come for us to settle our debts and recover from some recent setbacks. Simultaneously, we want to make our mark within a new land, a new culture."

Yuuri found himself nodding along, though he had no idea what Victor was talking about, and he was sure the chefs back at the restaurant were wondering why he was taking so long. He spoke in a hypnotic, fascinating way that drew Yuuri in like a lost animal uncomprehendingly beckoned by a fragment of beautiful music. The crackling, dancing flames in the fireplace lapped at the ancient bricks like ghosts' arms.

"Yuuri, I believe you are the key to the future of this city." Victor's gaze lingered on him longer than usual. "I know you're quite confused. Allow me to show you what you need to know."

Victor stood up and walked over next to the fireplace to a narrow bookcase. He pulled at a thin, red volume as if about to take it from the shelf. Just like a secret switch from a mystery film, this caused the wall of the fireplace to slide apart to reveal a hidden, human-sized opening. Yuuri stared on, astounded, at the hidden passageway with stairs leading down into the mysterious darkness.

"Follow me," Victor beckoned to him and walked straight through the flames to the passageway beyond. "Don't worry, the fire can't hurt you, it's a projection."

 _OK, this is definitely not something I've encountered before on the job_.

With sharp intakes of unsteady breath, Yuuri followed him, timid yet astonished through the fake flames, to the depths beyond.

They climbed down in silence, their footsteps echoing down the staircase. After a while, Yuuri wondered if they were climbing down below city street level. The air grew chilly. Victor didn't say a word, but seemed to be humming a soft song to himself.

Finally, they were nearing the end. Yuuri could see a faint light down at the bottom of the staircase, coming from the cracks under a heavy steel door.

Victor pressed a button and the door slid open. Yuuri gaped at the expansiveness of the space they now entered. It was cavernous with concrete floors like a warehouse. He could hear the sounds of curious hums and soft, mechanical whirls.

The two were standing on a long metal balcony, overlooking a giant space below flooded with bright fluorescent lights. Strange scientific-looking machines and conveyor belts formed neat assembly lines all up and down the large underground space, with grid panels and beakers and test tubes. It was like a factory floor crossed with a mad scientist's lab.

"This is where our production happens," Victor explained, hands casually in his pockets. He smiled a little, lightly amused at Yuuri's amazement.

There were no human workers in sight, but shiny robotic arms protruding from the machines were hard at work manufacturing, refining, and packaging some sort of blueish, powder-like substance. Small piles of the blue powder moved in rigid, clockwork fashion down the many rows of conveyor belts, undergoing various processes.

Yuuri couldn't get a very close look, considering the distance from the factory floor below. He tried leaning further over the balcony, scrutinizing the bizarre surroundings he found himself in. Momentarily stunned by the strangeness of the situation, Yuuri was lost for words.

"Black Bear is now on production batch number four-thirty-five of our newest product. It's proved very popular with consumers in our initial global distributions," Victor said proudly, breaking the silence.

"So you run a drug operation? Uhh...isn't this whole place is illegal?" Yuuri exclaimed.

Yes, Victor seemed to be a shady figure engaging in remarkably nefarious activities, but who was Yuuri to judge him in something he didn't know much about? He wasn't sure what to think.

"Business is business, Yuuri," Victor leaned against the rails. Yuuri noticed he looked a little sad, with the hint of a shadow cast over his handsome face. "And besides, my father would've wanted someone to take over the family empire."

Yuuri didn't want to pry, but he felt himself longer for more of an explanation from this mysterious man. Was Victor's father responsible for all of this? Did he pass away, leaving Victor to his own devices?

"Now you know my little secret and carry the knowledge of the business that I run here," Victor spoke with a heavy tone. "I'm afraid I can't leave you leave without asking some...favors from you."

"Aren't you the one who chose to show this to me? I mean, who even are you to do this to me?" Yuuri tried to protest, his voice failing at the sight of Victor's intense stare.

"I know you deserve a better explanation. But this is the best I can do right now. You'll have to trust me. Won't you?" Victor smiled with a glimmer of hope.

Yuuri was suddenly aware of their close proximity, his back leaning against the balcony with Victor less than a foot away. Those winter-blue eyes, locked with his as though frozen solid. He caught a whiff of a subtle, woody scent like soft leather with a hint of citrusy spice. _Victor's cologne?_ Oddly, it had an almost hypnotic effect on him.

"Uh, OK," Yuuri pulled away, forcing himself out of Victor's strangely strong pull. "Yes. I'll do whatever it is. But it can't be anything that risks my job. I really need this job to pay for my tuition. And you need to tell me how you found me, and why you found me."

Victor perked up at the sound of his words.

"All things will come to you, dear Yuuri. I need you to run a few deliveries. Nothing different from your normal job, yes? I would be more than happy to provide you with an adequate amount," He named a numerical figure so mind-boggling large that Yuuri's eyes nearly popped out of his head. That amount alone would probably be enough to pay for an entire year's tuition and living expenses. Victor smirked a little at Yuuri's astonished expression. "As you can tell, money's no object. What I require is this."

He leaned towards him, taking Yuuri's chin and tilting it up so their eyes were locked in a fierce embrace. Yuuri's wide brown eyes met Victor's cool, collected ones. Yuuri couldn't tell what hid behind that calm exterior. He saw only two optic pools of unfathomable depth.

"Do you know what our motto means? It means 'silence, truth, and vengeance'. Right now, I need your silence. Your cooperation." Victor smiled now, tilting his head a bit to the side, almost like a playful dog. Yuuri felt he was so difficult to read at times. Was that supposed to be a threat or a plea? Or a combination of both?

"This will be our little secret. And this is an offer."

 _**apologies for the late upload, I've been getting behind on this ff, what with school and classes starting again. I will reduce the posting frequency to about once every three weeks. The plot is slow to develop but I do have a general idea for how Yuuri and Victor's relationship will develop as they work closer together. Thanks for reading and I appreciate the feedback :)**_


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